


Eyes Wide Shut

by rubycrowned



Series: And Through Your Eyes (I See The One I Wish I Was) [3]
Category: 1D - Fandom, One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubycrowned/pseuds/rubycrowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>niall has his lads; what else could he want? even if they are dumb as shit sometimes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Wide Shut

**Author's Note:**

> part three :D i told you i'd have it up by end of jan...and for once i kept my promise.
> 
> niall's pov this time - be gentle w/ me bc i don't usually write him, as much as i love the adorable shit.
> 
> also, this chapter has slightly (slightly) more focus on the uni part of this uni au, but i'm lazy as all hell and have blatantly just based this off the nz university system. i don't think there should be /too/ many differences, but forgive me if it's not 100% accurate to the english system.

“I'm starting to think it isn't my sparkling company you come in for…”

“Oh, come off it,” Niall winks at Ed behind the counter as he saunters into the small zoo cafe, more than ready for his fifteen minutes break from both work and the piercing cold that seems to be creeping in earlier than normal this year. “You know I'm only biding my time ‘til I can afford to make an honest woman out of you.”

“Well, be still my beating heart, then,” Ed pretends to swoon, disappearing out of sight, hidden by the coffee maker, before popping back up with a tray stacked with greasy food; “I suppose I should make this a contribution to our future together, in that case.”

Niall beams, although he tries to shrug nonchalantly as if this isn’t at least a quarter of his reason for visiting (okay…maybe half).

“It hadn't even crossed me mind...but if you insist, who am I to say no?” Niall swipes the extended offering, a smooth movement bringing a handful of still-hot chips into his mouth. They taste a little bit like a heart attack wrapped in battered heaven.

“Must say it’s awful coincidental the way you manage to get here every shift _just_ as I have to throw out any of the leftovers from the cabinets, though,” Ed laughs at Niall as he tries to open a sachet of ketchup without actually putting his plate down because, as difficult as the challenge is with greasy fingers, it feels a bit like giving up if he does.

“Shaddup,” he garbles around a mouthful of hot dog and sauce once he's achieved his goal, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Uh huh,” Ed smirks, “but, more importantly, are we hitting town tonight or what?”

“Or what,” Niall tells him apologetically, “Sorry, mate, can't make it. Haz and Louis might be up for it though, if you ask nicely.”

Ed pulls a face, “But you can't help feeling like the world’s largest and most out of place third wheel with those two.”

“I said sorry,” Niall pulls his own face back, because he really would like nothing more than to go out and get sloshed tonight, maybe pick up a nice bird, scratch the old itch or whatever it is they say, “but I have a midterm  tomorrow morning and I promised Mum no more taking exams hungover.”

“Aww, such a work ethic, Niall,” Ed shakes his head, “Didn't know you had it in you.”

He flips Ed off and spins out of reach as Ed tries to half dive across the counter and pull Niall into a headlock. Niall decides not to point out the way Ed's knee has ended up crushing a display of pre-packaged biscuits.

“Tomorrow night though, yes? I'll get all the lads rounded up and we can make a proper go of it,” Niall offers as compromise.

Ed sighs wearily as he climbs back to ground level, quickly stacking unbroken packs of biscuits to hide those less fortunate.

“Oh I suppose you've twisted my arm, then,” he grins, taking Niall's empty plate back, “But I best find someone pretty to take home to make up for this slight, Horan.”

“With me as your wing man?” Niall asks, horrified,

“There'll be more pussy than the fucking pet shop.”

***

Niall has been ready to go for a good half hour now, but the rest of his friends are “slow as _fuck_ ”, as he rightly informs them by hollering down the hall, “Hurry up, you assholes.”

“Twat,” Louis' voice can be heard resonating from Harry's room and god help him that better mean he's already been in the bathroom because Niall is pretty confident that he just smashed his econ test today and now he is dying to down a couple and maybe find someone to go down on _him_ later on.

“You know you're only convincing him to go slower, right?” Zayn looks up from his phone to raise an eyebrow at Niall, “He'll change his entire outfit now just to annoy you.”

Niall sighs, but he's almost definitely right.

And he doesn't want to snap at Zayn because he just might be his favourite so far tonight because _he_ turned up already dressed when he arrived for dinner earlier – even if he did then spend twenty minutes hogging the bathroom mirror, styling and restyling his quiff only to scruff most of it out again after Liam made some passing comment about not understanding why Zayn kept trying to fix something that wasn’t broken to start with.

It’s been a month since Niall saw Zayn for the first time in well over a year - a brilliant surprise - and since then, both Zayn and Louis have been thoroughly inducted into their little group, sometimes seeming to spend more time here than at their own flat, the five of them quickly growing closer than most. But he still isn't willing to touch whatever is going on with him and Liam with a ten foot bayonet.

“I know,” Niall sinks into the sofa next to Zayn in defeat, “but I'm ready and I'm buzzing and I just wanna get _laid_ , Zayn,” he moans pitifully, and gets a sympathetic pat on his knee for his troubles.

“You make it sound as though you haven't gotten any in a while,” Ed's voice is quickly followed by the rest of him, having more than likely let himself in since Niall can't remember having heard a knock.

“We really need to remember to get a lock for you, I mean the door. Well for the door for you.”

“You wound me. It'd only end in heartache. Deep down you know this.”

“Yeah, how'd I keep coming round to nick your DVDs?” Zayn pipes up.

“We'd get a cat flap for you, Zayner,” Niall rumpled Zayn’s hair absentmindedly, for once not getting his hand slapped away for wrecking it, “Don’t worry, I'd never forget about you.”

“You romantic, Horan, our love will never die,” Zayn throws his arms around Niall's waist and snuggles in.

“I feel like I'm watching myself being cheated on, and yet,” Ed shrugs, not finishing the thought.

Niall sniggers, but he actually does feel a little bad for that, if only briefly; he's known Ed for almost as long as he's known Zayn, ever since they meet in an anthropology class in the second semester of first year. He's definitely known him more _consistently_ than Zayn, has even worked with him for most of that time. And yet, Ed has never really just _clicked_ into his close knit group of friends like Zayn and Lou did, like puzzle pieces they didn't know were missing but suddenly there's a whole other picture you couldn't see before, that finally makes sense of the whole. Niall loves Ed, still considers him one of his closest mates, but while Ed gets on with the others well enough, it’s not quite the same.

He doesn't let it stress him though; Niall is pretty sure half of their friendship is based on the way Ed is possibly even more chilled out by life than Niall is, lacking some of the manic energy that Niall finds burning under his skin, prickling at his fingertips. And Ed has plenty of friends, spread across more circles than even Niall can link himself to - he hangs out with Niall and the lads when it suits him, and does his own thing the rest of the time. It’s just how he does things.

“But seriously, mate, I've been out with you, what, all but one week of the past month or so?” Ed picks back up the conversation he'd walked in on minutes ago, “and I think I've only seen you strike out badly enough to go home alone once.”

“But that one time was _last_ time,” Niall admits he’s getting borderline whiny, but there’s still no sign of Harry, Louis _or_ Liam being ready and this is getting ridiculous.

“Hardly a dry spell, though,” Zayn prods him in the side.

“It is for _me_ ,” Niall mutters mournfully, ignoring the condescending ‘ _aww_ ’s and sniggers at his expense.

“Need someone to make you forget about that test, then?” Ed asks from his perch on the end of the sofa, feet swung around and sat on the cushions so he’s facing Niall and Zayn.

“Na, it wasn't that bad, to be honest. Pretty straight forward as long as you'd understood what Payton had been pissing on about in his first lecture - it was all built on that, really, so…” so basically Niall was fairly certain he'd manage to scrape an A- at worst, if not a pretty solid A.

“What about you, Li? Zayn addresses Liam who has just wandered in, tugging his collar straight and scuffing his worn Chucks onto his feet.

“Hmm?” Liam looks between them as he bends down to hook the back of his shoe over his heel, not bothering with undoing the knotted laces.

“Today’s econ test,” Niall supplies.

“Oh,” Liam blinks, “it went alright, I guess. Find out soon enough, won't we.”

“Sure you did brill,” Zayn beams at him, and Niall doesn't miss the way Liam can't quite meet Zayn’s eyes.

“Oi, Zayn,” Niall shoves the boy off of him, “your turn to yell at Lou and Harry so we can get outta here.”

“Ugh _fine_ ,” Zayn pushes himself off the sofa and grabs at Ed on his way past, “You're coming too.”

Niall tries not to laugh before the hall door closes behind them; he's not sure Ed realises that Zayn’s not above using him as a human shield if one of them has to actually enter Harry’s room and bear witness to whatever travesty might be occurring within.

He stands up too, nudging Liam with his shoulder as he passes him to move into the kitchen, grabbing two shot glasses he's pretty sure are clean, and pulling a bottle of Jagermeister from the cupboard beneath the sink.

“You did go alright, yeah?” he asks carefully, glancing up between pouring.

Liam scratches at his head, still avoiding Niall’s gaze.

“I- yeah I think so. Just wasn't all that great with that scenario with the newlyweds, so I dunno...”

“You'll be fine, mate; I went over that stuff with you the other night, remember? I'm sure you got enough to scrape through, yeah?”

“Mm, fingers crossed,” Liam manages a half-smile, but Niall can see the deflection behind it. No good hashing it out now though, so Niall leaves him be for the moment.

“Well uncross them for just a sec or you'll spill your shot.”

He hands one over to Liam and lifts his own in a toast.

“To getting it over and done with and getting drunk enough to forget any mistakes, regardless.”

Liam only cheers half-heartedly along with Niall, but he downs the shot quick enough, swallowing his grimace and pulling at Niall's elbow to drag them towards the front door where the others are stood waiting.

“Jesus, Niall, take your time why don't you,” Louis' eyes are twinkling with mischief and he can barely keep his face straight, but he's putting up a valiant effort, “We could all die of old age waiting on you.”

Niall only rolls his eyes and tugs Louis into a headlock and through the door.

“Well I guess that means the first round’s on me, then. Let’s go.”

***

They end up at Betty's because, well, they always do.

Betty's is a pub Niall and Liam had stumbled upon towards the end of their first year at university after a long day trudging around the suburbs surrounding the uni campus, trying to find a flat to move into in the following months that was both within their budgets and fitness tolerance, as well one which didn't come with a nest of rats along with the whiteware. A tough ask apparently.

At the time, the bar had been a silver lining on a pretty bleak and grey day. And when, three weeks later, they had just finished exams and managed to find a flat that was almost too good to be true (if a bit on the small side and with an extra bedroom they'd have to find a tenant for), and it just so happened to be only a couple hundred metres from the same pub they'd found on their first day’s search, Betty's quickly became their local.

Niall’s stood at the end of the long bar, the same position he’s been in countless times over the last year and a half accompanied by his mates, as much as they’ve varied over that time frame. Liam’s always been there, and tonight he’s steadily putting away a few more handles than he usually allows himself. For a while there was Josh, another commerce student that Liam and Niall had hung out with during their first year and decided to offer the final place in their flat to. He had been good value for a laugh, but by the end of second year, through no fault of anyone, it was starting to wear a bit thin, and Josh had made his excuses that he was planning on moving in with his long-term girlfriend the following year. It had worked out the best in the end, because that had been the year that an old family friend of Liam’s had moved to the city for university and, by the time Josh had announced his intentions, Harry was looking at preparing to move out of the rite of passage which is residential-hall-dom, and so their current flat had been born. Now that Zayn and Louis have also entered their dynamic, their routine has changed very little; their flat is only a few blocks further from Niall’s, and Betty’s is still probably the closest bar that isn’t either crawling with first years – off their faces and hording together in packs – or charging triple that which they pay here.

Ed’s faded in and out of Niall’s memories of time spent here as it’s suited him, and tonight he’s to Niall’s left, not-so-subtly attempting to pull the moves over a girl – Michelle, Niall thinks she was introduced as – who’s idly twirling the straw in her glass of vodka sunrise and slowly but surely seeming to be caught in Ed’s floppy hair, deceptively sheepish smile and easy, charming manner. Niall has no doubt Ed won’t be returning to an empty mattress tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Niall can see Louis standing in between Harry’s legs over at the other end of the bar (Niall can’t quite remember how they had become split into two groups, or how they ended up at the bar and not in the booth they more or less have eternal dibs on – almost hidden in the corner, yet with a wide viewing scope for potentials pick-ups). As has become the norm, personal space is never an option for them. Not that they’re constantly making out (although there’s quite a bit of that too, Niall allows), but it’s as though they always need to have some sort of contact with the other; whether for comfort or reassurance, or something else entirely, Niall’s unsure. But right now, Louis’ murmuring something into Harry’s ear (well, his cheekbone, but semantics aside) as he traces his hand up Harry’s thigh to where his arm is resting, loosely extended out to grasp at Louis’ hip. The same hand drags back down Harry’s arm to wrap around his wrist, sliding to interlock their fingers. Niall almost laughs watching Harry’s face when Harry realises they’re both standing and Louis’ leading them towards the dancefloor, clearly confused as to when that actually happened.

Niall’s not sure anyone could look at Harry and Louis and believe they’d barely been together a month; you don’t even need to spend time with them, you could just watch the way they interact without thinking, as if some sort of gravitational pull has them caught in a tight orbit, moving in a dance that only they know the steps to. Neither of them even seem aware of it either, the way they’ve fallen head first into this, both still pretending that they have some sort of control over it.

Yet Harry looks lost once Louis goes home, as though he doesn’t know where to put his limbs when there isn’t that one body to wrap them around, confused by the sudden empty space surrounding him. And Liam will poke fun and tease that he’s never seen Harry mooning like this over someone before, and Harry will whack him on the head and tell him to shut it, but his blush and the smile that he swears at Liam through betray him.

And Louis’ face will go soft when he thinks no one is looking, losing the guarded edge it usually carries while he watches Harry’s concentration face, the tip of his tongue just poking from the corner of his mouth as he faces Zayn on Crash Team Racing. But, with Louis, Niall can’t help but feel as though Louis is running away rather than towards. It’s in the way it only takes the slightest of movements for Louis to be jolted from that expression of easy joy, to be disentangling himself from Harry, excusing himself to make a trip to the bathroom, or for a glass of water, or, actually, he needs to go home now because he forgot he has an assignment due Monday. It’s in the way that the two of them had both wound up staying over the mid-semester break the week before (Liam and Niall had threatened Harry with castration if he didn’t clean the flat before they got back; Niall was mildly concerned when his own room still smelt vaguely of bleach when he returned on Sunday night), and yet he’d heard Harry tell Liam that Louis still wasn’t sure Harry should join him on one of his weekly Skype calls home. He doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t think it’s his place to say anything, not when so often they can’t keep the smiles off their faces. He just hopes that’s enough for them to sort it out.

But that’s more than enough worrying about his friends’ love lives for a Friday night, so Niall concerns himself with turning back to the bar and winking down towards Callie, the bar maid that has long since been used to the antics of Niall and his mates. She’s tiny, barely reaching Niall’s shoulders when she’s barefoot, straightened deep-brown hair swept up into a messy ponytail and startling blue eyes even more pronounced with a practiced smudge of eyeliner. She grins back, poking her tongue out, and brings over another pint to replace the empty one between Niall’s hands, waving him away when he goes to pass her some change for it.

He starts passing the time by poking faces at Callie, trying to distract her from the press of customers that’s only increased as the night’s progressed. Ed’s disappeared with his girl, and Niall knows it’s more than likely he won’t see him again until they share a shift at the zoo again on Tuesday afternoon. Liam’s still seated next to him, but he’s not much for company right now, head almost on the sticky wood of the bar as he nurses what looks to be whisky now and watches those dancing.

He knows Callie will be a far better bet than actually going through the motions of chatting up some random that’s turned up tonight, but Callie’s shift won’t be finishing for another hour or two yet, so he still has a bit of time to kill; she normally starts early in the evening so she can be off by one. He shifts in his seat to follow Liam’s gaze out to those dancing with the thought of joining them in the sway of the beat.

Louis and Harry can just be seen in the crowd, doing something that looks less like dancing and more like getting off to the rhythm of the music. It’s barely gone midnight but Niall doubts they’ll be staying much longer.

He soon finds what had caught Liam’s eye, although Liam’s now steadfastly staring into his glass.

Zayn’s near the edge of the dance floor, dancing with a blonde girl that’s clearly interested in him, if the way she’s grinding up against him is any indication. And Zayn does a pretty good job of seeming into the girl too – except for the part where after every couple lines of song playing Zayn will glance up to look for Liam. Niall’s not sure if he’s purposely trying to catch his attention, if he’s almost daring Liam to do something, but Niall wants to smack their heads together with no small amount of force. He almost says something to Liam, but nope, he’s certain he’s not drunk enough for that conversation.

Finally, Callie finishes up her shift, finding Niall jumping along to the bass heavy track playing from the Top 40 with arms wrapped round his waist. When he turns to face her, catching her lips in a kiss that’s more of a meeting of grins, she tastes of rum and coke, sweetness and the tang of alcohol.

They don’t stay long, all of Niall’s mates having left over the past hour, and only stop quickly for hot chips on the way back to his, which he generously shares in return for the free drink she’d given him earlier. It’s not an act of gratitude which happens often.

When they close Niall’s bedroom door behind them and Niall runs his hands up and down the soft skin of Callie’s sides under her black singlet – gently pushing her towards his bed where he can straddle and kiss her without the awkward angle of their height difference – he can still taste the salt on her tongue, a different sharpness from the fading alcohol.

There’s a loud bang on the wall Niall’s bed is pushed against and the unmistakeable moan of Harry, and while Niall groans, Callie only bursts into laughter and lifts Niall’s hanging head so he can see into her twinkling eyes.

“Let’s see if they can handle a bit of competition.”

It’s easy to fall into this, into the familiar movements of lips and hips; where limbs slot together without thought and he knows which spot on her neck, high behind her right ear, makes her beg for it and near rip his jeans open; that she knows he’ll want to get her off at least once before he lets her suck him off, in case he’s too tired or drunk to go another round until morning, and because it only makes him harder knowing his mouth and fingers have the power to make her so wrecked and writhing amongst his sheets.

They aren’t a _thing_ as such, him and Callie. Rather a semi-regular meeting of convenience whenever the mood and opportunity strikes them. There’s never been a conversation or any pressure of an actual relationship, they’ve only ever had coffee once when Niall literally smacked into her while trying to wrap his headphones around his iPod as he walked through the doorway. But she’s great, and it’s fun, and there’s nothing he can fault in the way heat builds low and hot as she sucks hard at the head of his cock until they both end up tangled on the bed, sweaty and spent, catching breath they hadn’t noticed losing.

Nothing he can fault at all.

***

Accounting can suck Niall’s dick.

It’s less than a fortnight out from the first of his end-of-semester exams, only two days of lectures left of first semester before they’re all off on study leave – and, really, most classes stopped teaching anything other than revision a few days prior – and Niall wants to shoot whoever came up with this assignment in the face. Except that would probably be letting them off the hook far too easily.

It’s not actually the accounting that Niall’s pissed at, if he’s honest. He knows he can do managerial accounting in his sleep, the numbers and formulas wrote learned and committed to memory. It’s the time required to convert that knowledge to paper; to slog through the assignment and provide some sort of evidence that _yes_ , he did actually learn something this term.

It’s knowing that not only does he have this 20% assignment due in less than twenty-four hours, but a 30%, 2500-word essay due at midnight tomorrow and a 15% group assessment that for some god-forsaken reason was scheduled for the last day of classes. Niall’s almost halfway through his third year of university and he still hasn’t quite gotten his head round the way every single paper seems to not only assign a fair chunk of its workload to be due at this time, but also seems to forget (or ignore) entirely the part where most students are having the exact same situation thrust upon them in two – if not three – other classes.

It’s, strangely enough, bloody Zayn and Liam, still sneaking furtive glances between each other. Zayn’s over helping Harry with a psych report, seeing as he’d done the same paper the year before, and Liam’s _supposed_ to be learning something from Niall’s examples, which you’d think he’d be interested in, seeing as Niall’s pretty sure Liam’s barely holding onto a B- for the compulsory paper at the moment. Yet Liam’s sat leaning on his elbow at the tiny kitchen table, looking an awful lot like one of those drooling Pavlovian dogs Zayn’s rabbiting on about. Niall had thought for sure that after over two months of this shit, they’d either have had some spectacular tension-relieving sex or have gotten the fuck over it, but instead Niall wants to force their faces together and scream “JUST SNOG ALREADY” at them. In fact, Niall might’ve already said something to that effect to Liam one day after Liam had all but walked Zayn to the door for a goodnight kiss (and there _had_ been an awkward goodbye hug so Niall feels it’s barely a technicality). Liam had only looked at him, bewildered, unable to turn to Harry for support since he’d left with Louis earlier, and told him, “but we’re just friends.” Niall was about ready to punch them both in the face.

But, if he was being honest with himself, Niall knew what it was that was really bothering him in the final lead-up to exams. He didn’t want to be here.

Niall had gone straight into uni from completing his A-levels, choosing to go into commerce because it was something he knew he was good at, had natural skill in, and his parents thought it would give him a qualification that would actually lead to a career at the end of it. He’d always been a smart kid, when he could be arsed trying for it, although anything at the ends of the spectrum Niall considered subjects to sit on – too creative (except music; Niall had been playing guitar since he was old enough to reach his arms to the strings) or too science-y (physics might be math-based, but it was the only thing Niall’d ever failed at before he gave it up in the sixth form) – seemed to disagree with him. So the careers advisors at school had always told him he “could be anything he wanted to be”, while Niall sat and tried to keep his eye-rolling to a minimum. Problem was, he didn’t _know_ what he wanted to be. There wasn’t an awful lot they could do with _econ’s okay, bio’s alright most of the time, no way in hell I’m being a teacher, no offence, miss._ And once he was in the course, it was all too easy to follow the coursework assigned, do the minimum required to get good marks (which wasn’t too much in Niall’s case), and spend the rest of his time enjoying being a student; play hard, party harder, try not to miss any deadlines or wind up in the hospital.

Until he was five semesters in, almost qualified, with the offer of an honours year to follow, and an absolute apathy for the life following it.

And he has no idea how to backtrack.

For once he doesn’t have the answers.

***

Niall drags himself through the door, grateful his room’s the closest to the front door for once; less distance before he can dump his bag. He’d also like nothing more than to throw himself down on the bed and quietly die, but he can feel himself stinking the place up already and he _knows_ that if he can only make it to the shower then the dull thud of hot water will be the actual best feeling in the world.

By the time he’s left the bathroom and pulled on his most worn-in sweats, and the warmest of his hoodies and socks, Niall’s already sleepy and cosy, and the added warmth of the heater and four boys only makes Niall want to snuggle up on the sofa and do anything but study for the exams that are only a couple days away now.

Doing nothing seems like a pretty valid option for tonight at least. The window by the fire escape is cracked just slightly, but the air in the lounge still smells vaguely of weed, and Niall figures the others must’ve convinced Liam it was a better option than them all freezing to death outside.

They all give Niall a bit of a wave when he enters the room, but what looks like ‘Cars’ is playing on the telly, and they’re all a bit distracted by it. Louis and Harry are tangled at one end of the sofa in a mess of limbs and woollen jerseys while Zayn’s slouched at the other end and Liam is sprawled half-on, half-off the armchair. Niall takes the easiest approach and worms his way into the gap between the LouisHarry mess and Zayn, taking the last, long drag off the joint Zayn has resting lazily between his fingers, dangerously close to burning a hole in his jeans.

“Tough day at the office?” Zayn asks blearily, looking up at Niall from where he’s slumped so far down his chin’s almost on his chest and his arse hanging off the couch – yet somehow he still looks comfy.

“Fucking _freezing_ ,” Niall tells him; Liam’s half-paying attention, but his focus is torn between Niall and the telly; while Harry and Louis seem far more interested in each other and tracing their faces with warm fingertips. “There were patches of ice between some of the buildings that didn’t melt all day, and it is no fucking piece of cake trying to manoeuvre a wheelbarrow holding the equivalent of a literal brick shit house of elephant dung through that without ending up face first in a pile of it. And then it had to decide to start pissing down with forty minutes to go dinnit?”

Zayn makes sympathetic clucking noises and butts Niall’s arm lightly with his head.

“You know you could always quit,” Liam suggests.

“Hm, find a job somewhere _inside_ ,” Zayn adds.

“Nah,” Niall dismisses easily.

And that’s the thing; as much as he might complain about his job – about the weather, or the hours, or every other facet of it – Niall would never give it up. He loves it too much. Even when he’s shovelling poop for close to twenty hours a week. He loves the people – especially the kids, and the way they’re so genuinely amazed by the animals (and Niall knows that, even now, his own face looks like that some days too). The keepers are great; they know so much and the vast majority have such sincere affection for the animals they work with. Sometimes a few of them will even let Niall help out now, if only to help prepare a meal, and most of the rest will at least allow him to observe. Above all, he loves the animals. Seeing what they do and how they behave, and just how intelligent so many of them are. But, whether smart, dumb, funny, cute or ugly as all hell, they’re always interesting.

So, no. Niall’s not going to quit.

They fall into a conversation about exams after that (Liam quietly pausing the film to continue once they’d all settled in again), moaning about how they were not prepared enough for being two days out from their first. Except for Louis, who sat there rather smugly since he was free until Wednesday rather than Monday, when he’d sit his one and only exam for the semester, the lucky bastard with his internally-assessed papers. It’s the only time Louis distracts himself enough from Harry to actually contribute to the conversation – probably because it involves gloating, the tosser – but both of them decide to take part when the subject moves to finally going home for end of semester break and Christmas.

They’re all headed home this time, each with their own plans; although Liam and Harry would be travelling home to Wolverhampton together in Liam’s beat up VW as per normal. Niall can’t wait to be headed home to an open fire rather than a half-bust electric heater, and the homey smell of his mum’s cooking; it even makes up for the part where he’s going to have to be leaving the flat before six in the morning on a _Saturday_ in order to get to the airport in time.

Harry’s looking at Louis curiously as he talks about seeing his sisters, but Louis seems unaware, even though a similar expression crosses his own face when Harry talks about his mum, and Gemma bringing home a real-life boyfriend this year. Sometimes Niall wonders if he’s the only one who notices what’s going on in the room. Or if someone else catches the way that Zayn’s eyes seem magnetised to Liam while he tells them all (supposedly) about his lack of plans for new year’s, _and maybe he’d just come back here early if people were around_.

“Jeez you’re oblivious, Niall.”

Zayn and Liam are both sniggering at him as he looks around him, trying to figure out what exactly he’s missed. The only thing he can come up with is that Louis now has Harry straddled, and they’ve returned to full force snogging on the sofa only a few centimetres from Niall. But that’s not exactly news in this flat, so he hadn’t really thought to react to it.

And maybe that makes him the kettle, but Niall’s pretty sure the rest of them have no idea what a stack of pots that makes them.

***

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it!
> 
> next up is harry and it's christmas break. this chap is all planned out so i just have to write it, but i'm starting back at uni tomorrow and there's a good chance it's going to be pretty intense this year, so I can't guarantee exactly when it'll be up. within a fortnight is my aim (ideally this series will be finished by march but that might be too optimistic)
> 
> as always, comments = love
> 
> xx


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